


A Lord's Sport

by crookedneighbour



Series: A Beast in Human Skin [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cannibalism, Gore, Half-Sibling Incest, Hallucinations, Incest, M/M, Monsters, Murder, Sibling Incest, Tentacles, Undead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-11
Updated: 2015-02-11
Packaged: 2018-03-11 14:29:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3329639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crookedneighbour/pseuds/crookedneighbour
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Domeric used to take Ramsay hunting when he was alive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Lord's Sport

Ramsay moved to rush past his father, a lopsided smile on his face. Roose lay a hand on his shoulder stopping him in his tracks. It was to snow soon. He could smell it in the air, the way other men smelled rain.

"It's no time for a ride, Ramsay. The cold may draw the wolves close," Roose observed, looking over Ramsay's head to the dark clouds above.

Ramsay sneered. It brought out the fatness of his lips.

"The wolves are dead, father. And if they aren't they will be," he snapped. "Domeric and I are going for a hunt."

Roose sighed. The name was a grasp for leverage at best. They had not spoken of him for sometime, though with each of Ramsay's mistakes he thought more and more of him.

"Bring me a pelt for the night then."

Roose stood back as Ramsay mounted Blood, equipped as garishly as he dressed. Even if he succeeded he'd ruin the pelt when he skinned it. Yet it was easier to watch him go.

\---

Domeric vanished periodically. He'd reappear when the two of them were alone, stepping out from some corner or some spot Ramsay hadn't quite noticed before. He'd always been like that though, creeping around like an old man. He looked older now too. His eyes were sunken, and his skin had grown sallow. The mixture of bile and blood he'd coughed up dripped from his lips continuously, pooling on the floor. He'd had one of the serving girls go to clean it, and when she'd said there was nothing there Ramsay beat her half to death.

In the woods now, he pulled up next to Ramsay. His horse was dark and unfamiliar. When Ramsay looked back there was only one set of tracks in the snow, and where as his horse let out steamy puffs of breath, Domeric's horse matched it's rider in stillness.

"Why can't father see you?" Ramsay asked. He'd wondered this for sometime, but only in the woods with him did it feel safe to ask. He knew he wasn't mad. People had been calling him mad his whole life, he simply had the will to action others lacked.

Domeric did not look at him when he spoke. When he opened his mouth his lips pulled back tight, his gums showing. When he smiled it was the rictus of death.

"The sight is in the blood. He's drained it away," Domeric answered vaguely. His voice made Ramsay's skin prickle. He had their father's whisper now. "Dismount. This happens on foot."

Ramsay looked around. Domeric had promised him this would be special, like nothing they'd shared before. Domeric had sat at his bedside reminding him of their fondest times together, telling him how he'd missed them. Domeric was always weak for him. Love made men stupid. He'd forgiven the poison even, he wanted his little brother happy after all. He'd given him dreams of the time they first killed a girl together, Domeric slitting her throat while Heke and Ramsay watched.

Domeric looked down from his horse, his tattered pink cloak fluttering behind him. He clearly paid the cold no mind. It was funny to be shorter than him again. Ramsay didn't like it. His half brother whispered something as their eyes locked, and behind him he could hear Blood turning face. He wanted to look back, but there was no doing it. Domeric's eyes were like a pale infinity, gripping him. He tried to raise his hand. He tried to breathe. He could do neither.

"Go on then, _bastard_ ," Domeric rasped. "Run."

Ramsay choked back to his present. His head felt flooded, but the thoughts weren't his. He could see images, he was thrown into memories, a boy bleeding in his arms, their father's hand across his face, the feel of raw flesh beneath his hands, the sound of wind cutting past cliffs. Was he running yet? His breath felt ragged and hurt in his chest. He looked left, a pack of dogs in silhouette ran through blurred trees. He must be.

Behind Domeric moved through the trees fluidly, almost as if he and his horse were one. He ought to kill him. He'd killed him once, he could do it again. He was a Bolton now, and what was Domeric, but the remains of a specter? He'd always been better than him. A few illusions wouldn't change that.

Ramsay drew his sword and turned to face his half brother.

Domeric had drawn his bow. His shape faded into his horse. His features had grown dark, but for his eyes. They were awful now. As he released his bow a great sea of bile grew beneath his horse, and followed it's mark through the snow. When the arrow tore through his shoulder, it was like the snow had frozen hard around his ankle. The crack of his leg breaking came first, then the thud of landing on his back. A dog barked as he tried to push himself up.

The pack of them circled around, black masses with pale eyes and slobbering mouths. Ramsay slashed at them when they drew close, thick blood oozing down his sword as he pierced them.

The beasts parted as Domeric approached on foot. His boots were worn and tattered.

"Come now, we are but brothers here. What harm could I possibly wish you?" Domeric teased. Another strange dark something coiled around his wrists. His flesh tingled where it held him, like he was going numb. The dogs and the cold around them fell out of focus, but Domeric was as sharp as ever. He stood over Ramsay, smiling oddly.

"Would you just bugger off and die already?" Ramsay snarled. "Just go bury your cold cock in one of your dead brothers before I tear it off."

Domeric made a wheezing noise. He was laughing.

"Oh sweet foolish brother. They have nothing I want."

Ramsay twitched as something cold shot through him. He felt wet. Domeric knelt over him, looking pensively at a murky icicle that had run through Ramsay's abdomen. He cut aside Ramsay's clothes with little concern for his brother's continued swears and threats. He'd waited for this for sometime. His brother's body was much as he remembered, though he'd put on some weight in Domeric's absence. He'd liked the look of fleshiness on him though. He'd liked the challenge of breaking in a strong mare. Now it was appetizing.

He'd always liked indulging in Ramsay after a hunt. His brother looked as sweet as he remembered. It had been hard to resist tasting him right away. He'd watched Ramsay sleeping his return, watched the rise and fall of his stomach as he slept. The rapid rise and fall of his chest, promised him a quick supply of blood. He tore up through the wound in Ramsay's abdomen, finding himself fascinated by how natural it was to tear him open. He'd expected Ramsay to be tougher somehow, different from other bodies. In the end he was soft. Easy to swallow.

Domeric was stronger than he'd been. His new arms were even stronger than that. As the arms his brother had known worked through his chest and sternum, his new arms, the ones the poison gave him, curled under Ramsay's ribs. Ramsay's heart was still weakly beating when he cracked him open.

He'd been holding back so long, he'd waited to deflower Ramsay too. He'd drawn it out, savoring how his brother's body resisted. He was too weak for that now, he needed this. Ramsay was warm and waiting, and their father... Their father was waiting too.

\---

Roose looked away from Maester Tybald, when he heard the knock. Ramsay had returned, but with much less fanfare than expected. Tybald had told him the pelt had been one of his better cuttings.

"Well?" prompted Roose. 

Ramsay said nothing at first. The day's sport must have drained some of the insolence from him.

"Nothing, father. I've just come home."


End file.
